Food is a funny thing. I used Peruvian anchovies in an Italian style recipe made by an Indian with cooking skills strongly influenced by Indo-Portuguese traditions from the state of Goa. We are diverse, but there is something that ties us traditional coastal dwellers together. We eat fish – lots of it – and we shut shop for afternoon siesta. This isn’t an invitation to stereotype. Just observe. We love fresh, briny, vinegar-y things with spice. Sometimes all together, sometimes not. We all have a “person”, from whom we get the best fish and that will be our person for life. We sunbathe our seafood on the side of hot asphalt village roads and we pickle it in jars to eat all through the monsoon. I’m going to make this my own someday but for now, here’s a close second of all those flavours that sit on my palate and hit all the right notes in my amygdala. It reminds me of my longing for the ocean and the balmy days I was close to it. One bite and I can’t help but cry….
tomato sauce
Passata, tomato sauce and pasta
Last week I overheard my sister being lectured on how she was “too young” and hence didn’t understand how her job worked. My sister is 30. Not 27. Not 28. Thirty. She’s done her job enough times to make a life of it for now yet the person signing the cheque resorted to condescension. Was she supposed to act 40? I don’t understand. I’ll spare all the reasons why my sister was talked to in that manner because I don’t want her to lose her livelihood.
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